Chapter Five
Charlotte
She blinks in surprise and looks down. Sure enough, both of their cocks have smears of blood on them. Silas’ only had a bit of pink creamy fluid smudged on it, but the blood on Alex's cock looked more red, and there was quite a bit of it.
And good lord, she understood why. Their cocks were huge.
Had those things really fit inside her? She thinks her eyes must have bugged, and they must have mistaken it for horror at the blood, rather than shock at their size, because Silas seems to jump into action, immediately in problem-solving mode.
"We'll call a doctor," he says quickly, seeking to reassure her. "I'm sorry, Charlotte, I didn't know you were in pain. You should have told us—"
"It's okay," she stammers out, wanting to reassure him in turn, her hand reaching out to grab his wrist before he can move. "It's normal. It didn't really hurt. There's no need for a doctor."
"What do you mean it's normal?" She nearly jumps at Tomas' voice, almost forgetting he was there from his silent position at the top of the bed. He leans over to crowd her other side, so she's surrounded by them.
"I just—" she bites her lip and her eyes dart between them, trying to figure out what to say, how to phrase this in a way that won't ruin the good thing she has going for her.
"I think it's normal," she finally settles on, her voice sounding uncertain.
Despite Silas' order that she should never feel shame or embarrassment with them, her hands come up to cover her body, feeling horribly exposed at such a terse conversation after three wracking orgasms that had split her open–literally–body and soul.
Her eyes can't settle, trying to keep all of them in her sights and feeling very much like a caged animal, wanting nothing more than to hide from the crushing weight of their disapproval.
"Charlotte," Silas finally says slowly, as if a horrible thought has just occurred to him. "When you said you hadn't done anything like this before, did you mean a financial arrangement? Or did you mean having sex?"
From the dawning look of horror on the other two's faces, she can tell there's definitely a right answer and a wrong answer here.
"I, uh—" The way they're using her first name, and not calling her Ms. Hines anymore makes her feel weirdly, horribly cold. "It was my first time," she squeaks finally, unable to lie to them. "Having sex, I mean."
"No." A look of dread comes over Silas' face, and he looks to Alex, as if in confirmation, as if sharing in a sinking realization that they had just done something wrong.
"Oh god," Alex just groans, his hand scrubbing down his handsome face. Watching him rumple his short, trimmed beard makes her shiver in the memory of how it felt scraping against her breast when he—
"Why didn't you tell us?" Tomas' voice is stern and reproving, pulling her from her memories. "If we had known—"
She cuts him off, and to her dismay she feels tears welling in her eyes. Oh god, this just kept getting worse. Now she was the crying virgin in their bed they'd just deflowered. Could she get any more cliche? They would never want to see her again.
"I'm sorry, I thought if I told you, you wouldn't want to, or you'd think it was a big deal or something, or—"
"Of course it's a big deal," Silas looks horrified as he cuts in. "If I had known, I would've been gentler, I would've—"
"It's okay," she says frantically, interrupting them again, despite the sinking feeling at the disrespect she's showing them. Her voice is panicky, even to her own ears, needing to calm them, needing them to not be upset with her. "I swear, you were gentle! It was good!"
She feels like she's trying to convince them of something, and under their stern looks of disapproval, she wilts.
"I'm sorry," she says again, her lower lip trembling. She cannot meet any of their eyes anymore, wishing the bed would just swallow her whole. She would happily spend eternity buried in Tomas' blanket if she could. It was warm there, soft and safe and–
"Baby girl," Silas breathes, his words turning her reality on its head as he seeks to comfort her. "No, don't cry. That's not what we mean. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."
His arms come around her, pulling her into his lap. Her eyes automatically find Tomas, seeking his reassurance as well. He is evidently the unofficial pack lead, and his word feels like law.
"Silas," he says, his voice low. It's not an order, but Silas releases her all the same, pressing her into Tomas' arms.
He bundles her against his chest, his hand on her chin, forcing her to look up at him and meet his eyes. His stormy gaze is almost too much to bear, but Charlotte is caught in it, unable to look away or escape.
God, his arms felt like heaven. So big, so warm, so safe.
Nothing could ever harm her here, she knows that beyond a shadow of a doubt.
If she had ever allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to be held by him–which she hadn't, except maybe sometimes in the darkest parts of the night when she was all alone in her nest–she never could have imagined how good this would feel. How right.
"You will never keep important information from us again," Tomas' voice is firm. The dominance of the order rolling through her and rewriting her DNA.
"Yes, sir," she agrees.
"If you are ever in pain, you will tell us."
"Yes, sir," she says.
He pauses, searching her face. "You are sore."
"Yes, sir," she agrees again, still not blinking or looking away. She holds his gaze, despite the blush that suffuses her cheeks at admitting to such intimate information. But she was sore. She felt like she was sore in muscles she didn't even know she had.
"My cock is still hard," he says off-handedly, as if commenting on the weather.
"Yes, sir," she says, feeling the rigid length of it against her hip.
His hand moves from her chin, his thumb tracing her bottom lip before delving inside it. She doesn't stop him. Doesn't break eye contact. He gently rubs her tongue with the flat of his finger.
"Do you want to learn something new, Ms. Hines?"
"Yes, sir," she says around his finger, her voice coming out muffled and slurred. She squirms in his lap but lets him do what he wants, no matter how stupid she might sound or look.
He shifts her, pushing against her shoulders and arranging her so she's kneeling between his knees.
"I'm going to use your mouth," he says, his voice rough. "I want you to suck my cock until I cum, and I want you to swallow it."
"Yes, sir."
Oh god, she wants him to use her mouth in a way she's never wanted anything else. For some reason, the thought of his taste on her tongue makes her squirm with pleasure, wanting more friction against her clit again at the very thought.
She had always found the idea of this distasteful. Who would want to put their mouth there? But she did, she wanted to taste him, for him to fill her belly with his spicy scent.
His hand tangles in her hair and guides her face down until she is eye level with his cock.
It's big. She doesn't know whose is the biggest, but up close, Tomas' size is intimidating. She shivers.
In this position, her ass is in the air, presenting Silas and Alex with a view between her legs where she still feels bruised and vulnerable and messy. But they told her she shouldn't feel embarrassment with them, so she forces the shyness away.
"You've never done this before." Tomas says it again as a statement, rather than a question.
"No, sir, I've never done this before." She looks up at him, her expression feeling very vulnerable now.
He grunts at that, the sound oddly misplaced on his perfect, refined person.
"Open your mouth," he instructs.
She does as he asks, relaxing her jaw.
"Wider."
She opens her mouth until it feels embarrassingly wide.
"Good," he praises, guiding her with his palm against the back of her head so his cock is resting against her lips. "Suck the tip."
There's pearly liquid beading out of the slit on the swollen head, weeping down the side of his pulsing length, and she hesitantly leans forward to suck it into her mouth.
She can't stop the moan at the taste of it. It's not bitter or salty or foul or any of the things she's heard it is. It tastes like—
"Heaven," Silas murmurs at the sight.
Yes, exactly, she thinks in her head. It tastes like heaven.
She sucks more of him into her mouth, pulling hard, as if demanding more of the liquid from his shaft, and he groans.
She releases the bulbous head and trails her mouth down the side, seeking out the wet trails of the fluid that have tumbled over the edges.
"Fuck," Tomas is cursing now, and hearing his rich, refined voice saying such filthy things makes her feel like she's flying.
The knowledge that she is doing this to him, that she is the one making him lose control, fills her with giddy desire.
She feels floaty, like helium filling a balloon until it drifts higher and higher into a great expanse of sky.
He uses his grip in her hair to guide her back over the tip. "Take more in your mouth. Relax your jaw. Take it as far as you can."
She does what he requests, lowering down until she feels herself gagging around him and holds him there as long as she can. She thrusts her head back, unable to stop herself from coughing a little as she heaves in a breath.
He seems to like that from the way his grip tightens in her hair, and he lets out what sounds like something halfway between a growl and a purr.
"Again," he says, his voice ragged.
She bobs her head back down, taking him back into her throat and holding him there until her body forces her back, taking a deep gasping breath and coughing more. His cock is embarrassingly wet with stringy saliva, and she fights the urge to apologize to him for making such a mess on him.
His lips quirk as if he knows what she's thinking.